


Keep the Weapons Down

by ladyvivien



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyvivien/pseuds/ladyvivien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma wants a truce and is prepared to be very persuasive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep the Weapons Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fictorium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/gifts).



Regina leant across her desk, glaring at Emma.

“A ceasefire? Really?”

Emma scowled. “I’m saying I want to take time out. I’ve barely been Sheriff a week and already we’ve got a gang of teenage arsonists from the next town over terrorising the high school and a string of break-ins in some stores downtown.”

“So what you’re saying is, you’re already screwing up and you want me to overlook it out of…what? Female solidarity?”

“I’m saying you need to give me a goddamn break, Regina! Otherwise I might start asking questions of those firestarting little brats and find that their trail leads straight back to you.”

“You’re ridiculous.” It’s true – Regina effectively got the three hoodlums college scholarships, so Emma can put the screws on them all she wants, they won’t so much as mention her name.

“Look, I’m not saying I want us to braid each other’s hair at a slumber party-”

“Pity, you’re crying out for a makeover,” Regina murmurs.

Emma lets it pass – probably because she knows it’s true – and continues. “We don’t have to be friends, but can we at least be on the same side for once?”

“I only want what’s best for Storybrooke.”

“You only want what’s best for yourself.”

Regina shrugs. “I have impeccably altruistic instincts.”

Pretty as Emma is, Regina has better things to do than listen her prattle on all day. Just because her stupid conspiracy theories happen to be within spitting distance of the truth doesn’t mean they aren’t still stupid. She stands, making no effort to conceal her boredom, and is moving to open the door and usher Emma out when the other woman stands up suddenly and they collide.

She is uncomfortable aware of just how close Emma is, and from the blush that creeps across the blonde girl’s face, it looks as if she feels the same way. Neither of them move, frozen in place for a moment and Regina luxuriates in one stolen second of closeness. As she tries to pull away, Emma puts her hand on her waist.

“Wait a second. Hear me out.” Her voice is low and seductive and none of the things on Regina’s to-do list are anywhere near as tempting as standing here and letting Emma Swan touch her. “We both want what’s best for the town. We both want what’s best for Henry, even if we don’t always agree what that is. Why don’t we just lay down our weapons for a few weeks and see what we can do if we work together.”

“You’re proposing a truce?” Sneering is surprisingly difficult when someone’s body heat is making you warm in all the wrong places.

“I can think of stranger things,” Emma murmurs. Her mouth feels very, very close to Regina’s all of a sudden.

“Like what?” Their mouths are almost touching, and it takes very little movement for Emma to answer her question by pressing her lips softly and gently against Regina’s.

She could close her eyes, get lost in this, but there’s a game to be played and Regina intends to win. She pulls back a little, but not far enough to lose the contact, and blinks in pretend confusion.

“I think you’re misinterpreting.” Her voice, she tells herself sternly, is trembling deliberately. “I’m not…I’ve never…”

“You’re gonna play the blushing virgin with me? Really?”

Regina rolls her eyes. “We weren’t all juvenile delinquents. Don’t you have any gal pals from jail you can call when you’re feeling a little horny?”

“Prison isn’t like the way it is your porn movies, Regina.” Emma shifts, and suddenly she’s so close that her breath is hot on Regina’s neck. “But I did pick up a few tips.”

Regina's back collides with the wall, and she realises with a flicker of irritation that she's let Emma manoevure her into position. Still, it's hardly unpleasant. Emma kisses just the way she likes, not too much tongue and just enough teeth. When she nibbles on Regina's lower lip, the other woman can't repress a moan.

"You like that, huh?"

Regina refuses to dignify that question with an answer, but when Emma’s hand shifts up from her waist to cup her breast, she can’t fight back a moan.

“What are you doing?” she murmurs, although it’s clear that if she were really resisting, Emma would have been marched out of the building by security by now.

“What we’ve both wanted for a while now,” the other woman purrs, pinching Regina’s nipple lightly and chuckling softly when she’s rewarded with a moan. Her hand trails down across Regina’s body to trace the hem of her skirt, and when she feels Emma push it up she thinks she might come right there.

The flat of Emma’s palm makes a hot, agonisingly slow path up Regina’s thighs and it’s all she can do to not to grab it and show Emma exactly what she wants. Then Emma moans, and Regina feels her questing reach the hot, damp lace of her panties.

“So you’re entirely unmoved by this, huh?”

Regina opens her mouth to frame a snappy response, but Emma traces the outline of her clit through the material and all that comes out is a breathy moan.

“How long has it been, Regina? Is that why you’re so uptight?”

“Graham…” the name escapes her lips before she can stop it, but although Emma flinches she doesn’t stop her teasing ministrations.

“I miss him,” she whispers roughly. “But admit it, Regina, the ground didn’t exactly move. Did he even go down on you once?”

She fight back her rueful acknowledgement to form a shocked, and slightly appalled frown.

Emma takes the bait and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, honey,” she says, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Don’t tell me no-one has ever eaten you out.”

“That’s disgusting,” Regina murmurs, and it doesn’t matter that it’s unconvincing because it’s clear she’s about to get what she wants.

“It is, isn’t it?” Emma agrees. “It’s dirty. Nice girls don’t do that. Nice girls don’t let another woman push them up against a wall and start fingering them through their panties.” She brushes an almost affectionate kiss across Regina’s mouth. “Luckily for me, you’re not a nice girl.”

Without warning, she yanks Regina’s thong down and trails a slender finger through the damp curls. Emma licks Regina’s come off her fingertip, mmm-ing in pleasure. “You taste just as good as I’d hoped.”

“So you’ve thought about this?” Regina’s voice is shaky but triumphant. “Is that how you spend your nights, with your hand between your legs imagining what you want to do to me?”

“You’ve done the same,” Emma whispers. “Admit it. Late at night, you wonder what it would be like.”

This kiss is hot and demanding, and Regina feels as though she’s being devoured in the very best way. Well, almost. But that’s clearly coming next as Emma tugs her towards her desk and she’s a little ashamed of how weak her legs seem to be right now.

She’s had so many fantasies about bending Emma over this desk and having her wicked way with her, but she’s rarely contemplated having the roles reversed. Regina lets the other woman push her onto the desk, and hike her skirt up around her waist. Acting be damned, she finds herself spreading her legs without being prompted, and when Emma smirks in response, her blush is real.

Emma kneels down in front of her, lifting Regina’s legs over her shoulders so her Louboutins rest against her back. Funny, she’s imagined this position countless times, but she’d never anticipated Emma being the one in charge. When Emma’s tongue first meets her clit, Regina gasps. Contrary to her shocked protestations, Emma isn’t the first person to do this, and she certainly isn’t the first woman, but Regina is reluctantly forced to admit that she might be the best. Her tongue teases slow circles interspersed with hard, long licks up and down, dipping into her cunt once or twice. Regina wants to beg Emma to fuck her like that, but she knows she has to take this slowly if she wants to convince the other woman that she’s really in control.

“Oh god,” she whimpers. “You shouldn’t… oh god, you shouldn’t be doing this, Emma.”

Regina, as Emma has doubtless noticed by this point, has thigh muscles that could snap the girl’s neck if she really wasn’t enjoying this, so it’s clear that her weak objections are little more than a front.

Emma pulls away, with a feigned expression of concern. “Want me to stop?”

It’s all Regina can do not to kick her in the face. “No,” she says in a voice barely above a whisper.

“You sure? Maybe you should tell me what you want, just so I know I’m doing it right.” Emma’s smile is mocking, and though it shouldn’t be possible for Regina to get any wetter at this point.

She closes her eyes and says through gritted teeth, as though under extreme provocation, “I want your tongue on my cunt.”

Emma sighs in satisfaction, and Regina knows that she’ll be remembering that sentence for weeks, bringing herself to climax at the memory of the Mayor of Storybrooke begging Emma to go down on her.

For once in her life Emma obeys, and resumes the exquisite assault on Regina’s pussy until she feels the pressure build. Stifling her moans with the back of her hand, she arches her hips and presses herself against Emma’s mouth as she curses softly under her breath. The pleasure becomes too much to bear and she comes with a strangled cry, the last strand of her resolve stopping her calling out Emma’s name. She collapses back on the desk, barely noticing the piles of papers she’s messing up as she revels in the delicious afterglow.

As she struggles to sit up, she sees Emma wipe her mouth with a smile of satisfaction.

“Next time, it’s my turn.”

Regina snorts. “I’m not letting you near my desk. God knows what you’d steal.”

“Oh, I don’t want the desk,” Emma smiles brightly. “I want your chair.”

As the door swings shut – and Regina can’t resist a glance at Emma’s denim-clad, spankable ass before it closes – she looks at the chair and feels weak at the knees.

Pulling herself together, she strides to the drinks cabinet and pours herself a healthy measure of scotch, relishing the burn in her throat as she replays the last half hour in her mind. It’s sweet, Regina muses, the way Emma thinks she’s come out the victor. After all the time she’s spent with their son, Emma still doesn’t know her fairytales. The one thing the wicked queen always wants from the sweet princess is her heart.


End file.
